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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380191">Rumour Has It</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExMachiina/pseuds/ExMachiina'>ExMachiina</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02, Digimon Adventure tri.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, F/M, Humor, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:35:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExMachiina/pseuds/ExMachiina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tachikawa Mimi is a young, beautiful starlet and Ishida Yamato is her dreamy, broody new co-star who the press thinks she's dating. And then there's Yagami Taichi, a footballer known for being as abrasive as he is handsome, and has trouble written all over him. If only trouble weren't so attractive. [AU Michi/Mimato]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida/Tachikawa Mimi, Tachikawa Mimi/Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Author's Note: If this looks familiar it's because I first came up with this story several years ago, but never continued with it. But what is self isolation for, if not for revisiting your old fanfics and meticulously plotting them out? Please enjoy chapter one (again)! I've been out of the game a long time but would appreciate thoughts &amp; reviews very much. PS - Chapter 2 is already written so the wait won't be too long...</p><p>Huge, huge thank you to zoetekohana, who was my brilliant beta and forever Michi partner in crime! Couldn't have done it without her.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>QUEEN!!!!! I love u, I’m your biggest fan!!!!! &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>This is what true beauty looks like….</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>COME TO BRAZIL</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Lol @ this nasty skank.</i>
</p>
<p>Tachikawa Mimi skimmed through the notifications on her phone, lingering indulgently on the complimentary comments while quickly banishing the negative ones with an upward swipe of her finger. People were so brave under the anonymity of the Internet, but would any of these people actually say this to her face? Maybe they already were.</p>
<p>“Do people think I’m a nasty skank?”</p>
<p>Across the table, Inoue Miyako blinked twice. Almost nothing Mimi said fazed her anymore, no matter how arbitrary or peculiar, but this one did give her pause. </p>
<p>She stared blankly at Mimi. “What?”</p>
<p>Mimi simply raised her phone so Miyako could get a look at the offending comment in question. </p>
<p>Miyako had to lean across the entire table and squint through her vintage cat eye frames to see what Mimi was referring to and when she did, she rolled her eyes mildly. Mimi surmised that in the past three years as her publicist, Miyako had seen much worse. Although that wasn’t a very comforting thought either. </p>
<p>“I told you, never read your mentions,” Miyako shook her head, her long lavender hair falling in a curtain around her face. “Or at least ignore the bad stuff.”</p>
<p>Mimi waited.</p>
<p>Miyako heaved a big, purposeful sigh. “And no, people don’t think you’re a nasty skank. No one who counts, at least.”</p>
<p>Satisfied, Mimi flashed her a bright smile. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>Heeding Miyako’s advice, Mimi set her phone down and instead glanced around the nightclub they were currently sitting in. The place was overflowing with fashionable party-goers, most of them congregating on the dance floor where neon lights kaleidoscoped over them.  The music was house, or electronic, or whatever it was called these days – the kind without words but with a pulsing, unrelenting bass – it was just okay. Truth be told, it was an exceedingly average club on all counts, lacking sophistication or polish.  But they were here on a mission.</p>
<p>“Nice dress. Think I can I talk you out of it?”</p>
<p>Mimi raised one eyebrow and looked up in the direction of the voice, disdain already painted over her features. Leering down at her with a skeezy smile was a thirty-something man with thin lips and a sharp pencil beard. Antiquated pick-up lines from this loser were the last things she wanted to deal with right now. She might have dialled down the bitch face if the man in question was a) passably attractive or b) possessing even the slightest semblance of style but lo, he was your typical aging club rat, with too tight jeans and a rhinestone shirt so heinous even Ed Hardy would have re-gifted it. </p>
<p>“Really?” Mimi scoffed. “Has that line ever worked for you?”</p>
<p>The rat winked, apparently misinterpreting her contempt as flirtation. <i>Ugh. Men.</i> “First time for everything. Can I buy you a drink?” </p>
<p>“Thanks, but no thanks,” Mimi returned faux-sweetly, turning her head back toward Miyako who looked amused. She always enjoyed watching men who had zero chance with Mimi attempt to pick her up.</p>
<p>He balked at her brush off but his offense abated into curiosity as he took a closer look at her. “Hey, wait a second. You look familiar. Have I seen you in something?”</p>
<p>Her annoyance was tempered slightly by the thrill of recognition, and she supposed she could give a fan a few more seconds of her time.  “It’s possible. Maybe you’ve seen <i>Hana Goes Home?</i>” </p>
<p><i>Hana Goes Home</i> had been Mimi’s last film, a family drama that had performed only adequately at the box office. But despite middling ticket sales, critics had lauded both the sharp writing and Mimi’s supporting role, heralding her energetic performance as the stand out of the film. The acclaim had landed Mimi her current gig.</p>
<p>“No, that’s not it….wait!” He snapped his fingers. “Zombie Pageant, right? There was that scene during the swimsuit competition when you chomp into that model’s neck and the judge shoots you straight in the head? Underrated movie! You got to let me get you that drink.”</p>
<p>Mimi clicked her teeth together in annoyance. </p>
<p><i>Zombie Pageant </i>was a trashy b-horror movie, one of several she’d done at the beginning of her career.  Her apparently unparalleled ability to die half naked on screen had vested her the title of Scream Queen - a title she was still trying to denounce. </p>
<p>“No thank you,” she said once more and tried, again, to turn back to Miyako.</p>
<p>“Come on. What are you drinking?” The man insisted, casually setting his hand down on the table in front of her. </p>
<p>Miyako made a face and opened her mouth to speak up but Mimi got there first. Her amber eyes narrowed into slits as she slowly turned her head back to him. </p>
<p>“Let’s get something straight here. I declined your offer of a drink not once, not twice, but three times. Which means you’re either <i>stupid</i> or you’re a misogynistic pig. Which one is it?”</p>
<p>The man fell silent, likely trying to decide whether he should actually respond to the substantial diss or cut his losses and walk away. After a few indignant sputters he wisely chose to shuffle off, muttering Bitch as he did so. She didn’t bother dignifying him with so much as a glance backward.</p>
<p>“I’ve got to hand it to you, Mimi,” Miyako chuckled as the interloper faded back into the crowd, “You’ve got a certain way with words.” She looked delighted; Miyako loved a good scene. </p>
<p>Mimi shrugged. “He was repulsive. If you’re nice to boys like that, it just encourages them. Now I bet he’s too embarrassed to hit on another girl all night.” She flipped a mass of glossy, honey brown curls behind one shoulder.  “Really, I did all the women here a favour.”</p>
<p>“Tachikawa Mimi, feminist icon,” Miyako teased. </p>
<p>Mimi started to smile but halfway through it deflated into a sigh.  “<i>Miyako</i>,” she whined. “I don’t want to be here anymore. We’ve been here for hours and there’s been no sign of him. I thought you said he’d be here.”</p>
<p>“I said he <i>might</i> be here,” Miyako corrected. Mimi had a tendency to embellish on the details.</p>
<p>Resigned, Mimi took a long drink from her vodka soda. Usually she didn’t mind staying out all night in clubs. She loved them, as a matter of fact. She loved dancing (and looked good doing it), flirting with men (cute ones, not the tragic brand that had just come by their table) and enjoying the free drinks that often came her way (but never getting so drunk that paparazzi could snap a picture under her skirt). She was young, beautiful and (semi) famous. Club culture was <i>created</i> for the Tachikawa Mimi’s of the world and at twenty-four years old she was still enjoying every second of it all.</p>
<p>However, clubs were very little fun when you were there on official business. And Miyako and her had come here with one very specific purpose tonight: meeting Ichijouji Ken.</p>
<p>Ichijouji was Tokyo’s new ingénue director. Virtually unheard of two years ago, his film <i>Lucid</i> had debuted at Japan’s most prestigious film festival and subsequently screened at festivals all over the world. Lucid was a cerebral drama about a psychological experiment that had gone very wrong. The film had gone on to sweep up top prizes during last year’s award season, garnering massive attention and thrusting Ichijouji and his lead actors into the spotlight. He’d then laid low all year, only to announce last month that he would be directing a new project, a cinematic retelling of the Hades and Persephone Greek myth. It was already receiving tons of press and had attracted the attention of every young actress in the game. Including Mimi’s.</p>
<p>She’d be perfect for the part, she just knew it. She was certain she could capture Persephone’s youth and naiveté; bring to life the pure and trusting nature that ultimately lead her to Hades. </p>
<p>Plus, she would look super cute in a flower crown. </p>
<p>Her agent had promised he’d get her an audition but just an audition wasn’t enough. Ichijouji would no doubt be seeing hundreds of equally cute actresses and she would end up just another headshot in a stack. That’s why it was so important to meet him. She knew if she could just get even five minutes with the director she would exude more than enough charm and allure to catch his interest. He would cast her, she’d win all kinds of awards and then forevermore enjoy a fabulous and illustrious career (until she was too old be considered attractive anymore, probably around oh, 35).   She felt it in her bones. It was as good as a sure thing. But first she needed to get to that <i>meeting him</i> part.</p>
<p> “Why’s he coming <i>here</i> anyway?” Mimi looked around the club some more, wrinkling her nose at a couple practically copulating at another table. She would have imagined the serious director in smoky lounges and hipster bars, not sticky nightclubs. </p>
<p>“Motimoya Daisuke is supposed to be DJing here tonight,” Miyako explained. “They’re friends. And I spoke to a trusted source who told me that Ichijouji almost always come by when he spins.”</p>
<p>“Does ‘trusted source’ mean Instagram?”</p>
<p>“Maybe.”</p>
<p>No one did Internet stalking like Miyako. “You’re good, you know that?”</p>
<p>Miyako smiled smugly and sat up a bit straighter in her chair. “That’s what you pay me for.”</p>
<p>“I’m paying you to make sure I don’t accidentally post something offensive online and prematurely end my career,” Mimi corrected, only half joking. “But your knowledge of pretty much every man, woman and child in Tokyo’s entertainment industry <i>does</i> impress.”</p>
<p>Mimi’s phone vibrated on the table from some new notification, probably one or several of her social media accounts. She reached for it, wincing when she saw the time. </p>
<p>“I can’t believe how late it is!” she moaned, aghast. “I have my first rehearsal with Yamato and I’m barely going to be able to keep my eyes open.”</p>
<p>“Number one, that is what espresso was invented for and number two,” Miyako leaned forward with interest, <i>“lucky."</i></p>
<p>Miyako was a big fan of Ishida Yamato. She had put his EP on repeat for weeks after it came out, swooning over his rich baritone and brooding blue eyes. Reviews had heralded him as the Japanese John Mayer and women everywhere had declared their devotion. Seemingly overnight he had appeared on everyone’s radar. When he’d been cast opposite Mimi, Miyako had groused that Mimi was like a horseshoe; there was no end to the good fortune she attracted.</p>
<p>“Remind me to keep you away from….” Mimi trailed off mid-sentence, her attention suddenly snapped up by a deliciously rugged man across the room. He had chocolate colored hair that was mussed up in a sexy sort of way, tanned skin and <i>damn</i>, that body. Even from here she could see the way the muscles in his arms rippled appealingly as he crossed them against his broad chest, stretching out the fabric of his black t-shirt. He parked himself against a wall, looking disinterestedly out into the crowd. Perhaps she could provide some interest…</p>
<p>“Yamato?” Miyako finally prompted.</p>
<p>Mimi slowly tore her eyes away from the man, blinking a few times at Miyako. “Sorry, what?”</p>
<p>Miyako was starting to smirk. “You were the one who was talking.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Mimi defended, though truthfully she couldn’t even remember what she’d been about to say. Her gaze wandered back over to the babe in black just in time to see some chick in a covetable mini dress press a kiss to his cheek and slip an arm around his waist. Mimi maybe could have held onto the hope that it was just a touchy-feely friend until she noticed his hand crawl toward the brunette’s ass. </p>
<p>
  <i>Ugggghhhh. Men.</i>
</p>
<p>She guzzled down the remainder of her cocktail.</p>
<p>“’I’m getting another drink! ” she announced loudly, shooting up from her seat. “Do you want anything?”</p>
<p>“I’m good,” Miyako answered, demonstrably swilling her half full glass of wine. “But do you want me to come with you?”</p>
<p>“No, save our seats. Back in a sec.”  </p>
<p>Without waiting for a reply Mimi began weaving her way through the throng of bodies.  The director she was trying to woo was nowhere in sight, the only cute guy in this sea of motley rejects was already spoken for and her early morning wake up call loomed closer and closer. She decided she deserved a drink. Maybe even a double. It would certainly help with the denial that she should have been in bed hours ago. On the other hand, said drink would likely make tomorrow morning that much worse but that would be future Mimi’s problem. Present Mimi was in charge right now. She quickly scanned for the least busy bar counter, zeroed in on the most tolerable looking one and strutted over.</p>
<p>Being cute and semi-famous had its perks, one being that Mimi rarely had to wait long for a drink. Of course, she couldn’t be sure if the bartender had actually recognized her or just thought she was hot but whatever, she now had a double vodka soda in hand. She maneuvered her way back through the crowd, holding her drink in one hand and trying to wedge her wallet back into her tiny clutch with the other. She had finally managed to cram it in when her shoulder bumped forcefully against another shoulder. Her glass jostled back from the impact and proceeded to empty its contents all down her top. Her very expensive, very silk designer top.</p>
<p>“Oh my God!” she shrieked as the freezing liquid soaked through the delicate fabric onto her skin. She frantically dabbed at her shirt, but it was for naught. The damage was done. Fuming, she raised her eyes to the culprit.</p>
<p>…Who was none other than rugged black t-shirt guy.</p>
<p>She bore her eyes into his wide, dark ones, waiting expectantly for an apology. The quality of it would determine to what extent she would eviscerate him. It better be a Nobel Prize worthy apology if he ever wanted to get off her black list and wait, was he just <i>walking away from her?</i></p>
<p>Mimi stared incredulously at his retreating figure, jaw dropping further and further until it practically unhinged itself.  Was he for real? </p>
<p>No way. Nuh uh. You didn’t just spill a drink on Tachikawa Mimi and get away with it.</p>
<p>Fuming, she dumped her glass on the nearest table and stalked after him, jabbing him repeatedly in the back with her pointer finger until he turned around. When he did, she stuck an indignant hand one hip and yelled over the music:</p>
<p>“EXCUSE ME! YOU RUINED MY SHIRT!”</p>
<p>The guy regarded her coolly and then rolled his shoulders back in a shrug. “Actually, <i>you</i> ruined your shirt. You’re the one who ran into me.”</p>
<p>Her eyes blazed. “I did not,” she said furiously. “<i>You</i> ran into <i>me</i>.” </p>
<p>He rolled his eyes; she wanted to scratch them out.</p>
<p> “Yeah right. You weren’t even looking up. If anything, I’m the offended party here.” He looked down at his shirt and then back up at her, arrogant smile curving his lips. “But you didn’t spill anything on me so you know what? You’re forgiven.”</p>
<p>It took every ounce of her self control to not smack the smug smirk off his annoying face. It was handsome, she had to admit, but it was still annoying. She couldn’t believe she had wasted even thirty seconds earlier lusting after him. She wouldn’t have done so if she had known what a pompous ass he’d be. </p>
<p>“<i>I</i> do not need to be forgiven. <i>You</i> need to be forgiven,” she said haughtily. “AND I DON’T!” To demonstrate how much she certainly did not forgive him she spun on her heel and stomped away.</p>
<p>Behind her he chuckled and called out, “Nice meeting you!”</p>
<p>Mortified, Mimi stormed back over to Miyako. She crossed her arms trying to conceal the wet stains on her top but it was no use. Now she just looked like some wasted party girl who couldn’t handle herself.</p>
<p>“Look what some asshole did to me!” Mimi exploded the second she reached the table. </p>
<p>Miyako looked up briefly from her phone where she was furiously texting away and then did a double take when she saw the stains. She grimaced sympathetically.</p>
<p>“Do you want me to hunt him down and threaten him until they agree to pay for your dry cleaning bill?” Miyako offered, which Mimi knew she’d follow through on if she said yes. But that wasn’t the point.</p>
<p>It was just so rude! Okay, perhaps she hadn’t been <i>entirely</i> blameless but would it have been so difficult for him to just apologize?! Just a quick <i>I’m sorry</i>, he didn’t even have to mean it that much. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a second before becoming conscious of smudging her lipstick and let go. </p>
<p>“Let’s just go home,” Mimi grumbled. “I have to be up in a few hours anyway.”</p>
<p>Miyako’s raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure? Motimoya or Ichijouji might still show.”</p>
<p>Mimi shook her head, her mind made up. She’d been unenthusiastic before but now she was feeling downright hostile. All she wanted was to shower, change and go to sleep. “I want to leave.”</p>
<p>Miyako knew Mimi well enough to know she wouldn’t change her mind so she nodded, gathering her bag while Mimi shrugged on her cropped jacket. Together they headed for the exit, keeping their eyes peeled just in case Motimoya or Ichijouji suddenly leapt from the crowd but they weren’t holding their breath.</p>
<p>As they turned a corner Mimi spotted the jerk from earlier yet again. Leather girl was hanging off him as the two talked to another couple. She rolled her eyes so hard it actually hurt but couldn’t resist peeking over nonetheless.</p>
<p>His date continued to chat animatedly to the others but he saw her. And then winked.</p>
<p>She hated him, she decided.</p>
<p>Cheeks flushing – thank God for dim lighting – she hurriedly directed her eyes back to Miyako who was leading her out of the club. She followed her through the hallway, down a flight of stairs and finally, blissfully out the front door. They went around the clusters of cigarette smokers so they could hail a cab and Miyako put Mimi in the first one that came up.</p>
<p>“I’ll get the next one,” Miyako said, opening up the door for her. “Good luck with rehearsal tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Mimi thanked her, kissed Miyako’s cheek goodbye and then sunk down into the backseat. The driver smiled at her through the rear view mirror as they pulled away from the curb.</p>
<p>“Fun night?” he asked pleasantly.</p>
<p>“Nope,” she said flatly.</p>
<p>He didn’t ask any more questions after that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Author's Note: This is kind of an exposition heavy chapter but things will pick up in chapter 3 (as yes, Taichi is back next chapter ;))</p><p>As usual, thank you to my Digimon wife zoetekohana for being moral support. And happy early birthday to you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mimi awoke the next morning to the screeching tones of electronica from hell — the alarm clock on her cellphone — and cursed her own existence. She wasn't a morning person at the best of times, let alone when she'd only clocked a few feeble hours of sleep. She slowly rose from bed, moaning as she felt her stomach churn uncomfortably. Oh yeah. Those last few vodka sodas hadn't been a great idea, either.</p><p>She pouted the whole way out of bed and into the shower, losing it only when she settled down in front of her vanity and saw how the pouting was wrinkling her forehead. But that had nothing on the bags under her eyes, which were so large they ought to be chipping in for rent. This was all Ichijouji's fault. How dare he not be at the club last night? So selfish, honestly.</p><p>Scowling at her reflection, she slathered on under eye concealer and wrestled with her curling iron, adamant at presenting "playful but serious actress" and not "hot mess who was out partying on a work night." That was important all days but today <em>especially</em>. Because today she was going to be seeing Ishida Yamato for the first time since they'd been cast in <em>The Last Tour</em>. Looking put together was essential. She thought back to their chemistry screen test, Yamato in his all black attire, quiet and serious. She wanted to prove she could be serious too. That she <em>was</em> serious!</p><p>Though, she should probably scrub last night's stamp off her wrist first.</p><p>Face painted on and hair finally curled into submission, she smiled with satisfaction at her reflection. A smile that promptly wilted when she looked down at her phone and saw the time. Shit!</p><p>Mimi flung open her closet doors and hastily pulled at hangers, shimmying into the chic but rehearsal appropriate outfit she'd mentally picked out the night before. Then, a flurry of final touches; leather boots that added a few inches to her height, her favorite necklace with the golden "M" charm and a quick assessment of her backside to see how it looked in these jeans (perfectly perky). She then shoved her script and her lipstick into her bag, slid her Dior sunglasses over her head and dashed out the door and down the five flights of stairs to the car garage.</p><p><em>One day</em>, she vowed to herself, blotting her forehead daintily with her fingers in case the stairs had caused her to perspire<em>, I will not only live in an apartment with an elevator, but I will own said apartment</em>. <em>Goals.</em></p><p>Traffic wasn't entirely oppressive but it was steady and Mimi white knuckled the steering wheel the entire drive. She <em>occasionally</em> had the bad habit of running late for social plans (sometimes liquid liner just didn't want to behave, you know?) but she made it a point to be punctual for work engagements. She didn't want to be labeled a <em>diva, </em>after all — not yet, at least. She figured she should wait until she'd won her first award before claiming official diva status.</p><p>She was a few minutes from the studio when her phone trilled out, her car's Bluetooth system announcing Sora as the caller. With one French manicured nail, she pushed the button on her steering wheel to accept the call.</p><p>"Hi, Sora. Please don't tell me I'm supposed to be in your office right now."</p><p>"Morning, Mi!" Sora's warm voice came through the speaker, "What? No. Your fitting is later this afternoon. Actually, that's why I'm calling — do you mind if we bump it to one o'clock instead? I want to finish altering that blue dress before you come in. It's going to look <em>perfect </em>on you."</p><p>Takenouchi Sora was the costume designer on <em>The Last Tour</em> as well as one of Mimi's closest friends. The two had met years ago on the grindhouse flop <em>Cheerleader Camp Cult 2.</em> The movie somehow defied expectations by being even worse than imagined, from the megalomaniac director to the horrible tick infested ranch they'd shot on. The even-tempered Sora had talked her down from throwing several tantrums on set and quickly became her confidante in all things. They'd been best friends ever since and for that reason alone, Mimi had been ultimately glad she'd done the movie. Even if she could no longer so much as look at a pom-pom without feeling triggered.</p><p>"One o'clock, sure, no prob-laaaaaa-wwww," Mimi yawned halfway through her answer and she heard Sora chuckle from the other end.</p><p>"Uh oh. Don't tell me, late night?"</p><p>"Very," Mimi sighed. "I was out with Miyako. Strictly business though, I swear. Tell you about it later?</p><p>"Can't wait. I'll make sure we have coffee on," Sora teased.</p><p>They said goodbye and the speaker beeped noisily as the call disconnected. Normally the sound drove her batty but at this moment, Mimi didn't register it.</p><p>Her car was approaching Saito Studios and she could start to make out the fifty-foot tall sound stages and the glass office towers that bordered them, like a shiny chrome hedge. The entrance was impossible to miss, a grand arch that stood seemingly as tall as the sky, with hundred-year-old cherry blossom trees looming majestically on either side. The trees weren't in bloom yet, but that hardly took away from the magnificence of it all. Saito Studios was one of the biggest film studios in Tokyo, so exclusive that they didn't even allow day tours from the public. To enter you either had to work there or be such a recognizable face that they wouldn't dare turn you away. A security booth manned the gated entrance to ensure only those who belonged were admitted in.</p><p>Pulse quickening, she drove up to the gate and pulled up beside the booth window where a guard with a bushy mustache and stern eyes apprehended her.</p><p>"Hi, ma'am. Photo ID, please."</p><p>She handed it over and watched nervously as he thoroughly examined it and then punched some things into a computer. She wanted to yell out <em>I'M STARRING IN A MOVIE HERE</em> but somehow suspected that would not go over so well. A silent lifetime stretched between them as he peered into the monitor. But when he finally looked back at her, his face had relaxed into an accommodating smile.</p><p>"Welcome to Saito Studios, Miss Tachikawa," he greeted, handing her back her ID. "The production office for The Last Tour is over at Building C. Have you been there before?"</p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>The guard gave her directions on how to drive over to the correct building, where to park and scribbled up a temporary parking pass for her. Then he pushed a button and those daunting iron gates parted, an invitation for her to enter. Breathless, she drove through, sun streaming through her dashboard, glass towers glittering all around her, and a thrill running down her spine at the realization that she now belonged here too.</p><p>If Saito Studios looked grand from the outside, it had nothing on how mammoth it felt when you were actually in it. She drove slowly, trying to soak in everything she saw. Just in her immediate vicinity alone was a convoy of golf carts cruising by, a small film crew crowded around two actors locking lips on a patio set, 40 foot work trucks precariously reversing into tiny parking spots, and various Producer looking types chain smoking cigarettes and screeching things like <em>"budgetary concerns" </em>and "<em>what the fuck do you mean he's gained twenty pounds, our superhero will not be a lard bucket, do you hear me?!</em>" into their phones.</p><p>It was chaos. She was positively enchanted.</p><p>She pulled up to Building C, longingly passing a sign that boasted coffee as she did so. A quick glance at the time told her that she had a few minutes to spare after all; traffic had been merciful. Everything was coming up Mimi.</p><p>She put her parking pass on her dash, touched up her lipstick and then hurried over to the café. For a second she worried it would turn out to be a fake studio store front but the approaching smell of freshly ground espresso beans assured her that was not the case.</p><p>Veins humming with anticipation of a much needed caffeine fix, she glided over to the counter. "Hi! Can I get a non-fat latte with an extra shot of espresso in it?" She reached for her wallet. "Please," she added as an afterthought.</p><p>"A latte with an extra shot of espresso," the young barista repeated erroneously back to her. He was extremely handsome, with swoopy hair and huge biceps, and Mimi would have been willing to bet her life savings that he was an aspiring actor.</p><p>"Non-fat," she corrected him, fishing out her credit card.</p><p>"A non fat latte," he repeated.</p><p>Her eye twitched. "With…. an extra shot of espresso." For his own sake, she hoped that every coffee order that came through his counter didn't give him this much difficulty.</p><p>"Your total is seven hundred yen. And what was your name?"</p><p>"Mimi," she told him, internally grousing at the inflated coffee price but consoling herself with the idea that next time she was at this cafe, she wouldn't have to give her name. After all, she was officially an actress at this studio now. Soon every person on this lot would recognize her by face.</p><p>"Can you repeat that?" Or not.</p><p>She heard herself sigh; her patience with this beautiful dimwit had worn thin.</p><p>"Mi-mi" she enunciated slowly. "Spelled M-i-m-i."</p><p>"Thanks Mina," he said distractedly, handing her the receipt.</p><p>"<em>MIMI!"</em></p><p>She'd had to yell at so many boys in the last 24 hours. Could men do anything?! She snatched the receipt out of his hand and he shrugged, turning around to get started on the drink.</p><p>With a grumble she moved over to the other site of the counter where her drink would come up (assuming this joker could manage such a complex task). That was when she heard the deep chuckles of a man's laughter behind her.</p><p>Mimi whipped around, eyes narrowed, ready to get into verbal fisticuffs with yet another stupid male because why not just bring them all on in one 24 hour span? But when she saw who it was, her face blossomed open into a huge smile instead.</p><p>"Yamato!"</p><p>"Mimi. I thought that was you."</p><p>There, smiling, sat Ishida Yamato, looking effortlessly cool in his leather jacket, eyes crinkled with amusement. Below him on the table was a marked up script, a comically large cappuccino mug (empty) and a ball of crumpled napkins. Evidently he'd been there for a while.</p><p>Mimi flushed slightly, mortified that had overheard her impatient exchange with the barista. Did he think she was a big fat priss?But she kept her smile plastered on, boundless enthusiasm forever her trusty weapon against possibly awkward conversation.</p><p>"Hi! Oh my gosh, it's been <em>way</em> too long, come here!"</p><p>She gestured with her arms for him to come and he did, his long stride bridging the distance between them. Then a pause, his body language unsure as if trying to discern whether the situation called for a handshake or a hug. Mimi made the decision for him and practically leaped upon him, squeezing him tightly with the familiarity one might assign to a best friend and not their coworker who they'd only met once before. What? She was a hugger. Her father had once told her that she could squeeze the life force out of someone if she really wanted (possibly not great but she took it as a compliment). He hugged her back and she noticed how clean he smelled, like really excellent shampoo.</p><p><em>Makes sense</em>, she thought as she pulled away, looking over those silky blond tresses of his. Boy had <em>incredible</em> hair.</p><p>"It's <em>so</em> nice to see you again!" she told him and it was. She'd been keeping up with Yamato's social media but it was mostly all clips of his music with only the very occasional glimpse of the actual man himself. Boring. What even was social media without the occasional thirst trap? "How have you been?"</p><p>"Yeah, good, no complaints here," he said, shoving one hand in the pocket of his black skinny jeans. "Been recording, mostly, with breaks of heavy memorization in between." He tapped the script on the table. Mimi could see now through the highlighter and pencil marks that it was the shooting script for <em>The Last Tour</em>.</p><p>"Ooh! Are you recording a new album?"</p><p>"Trying," he said nonchalantly, though it felt like the type of nonchalance that came from someone who was careful not to boast as opposed to someone who didn't care. "Still have some work to do in the studio, but hoping to get it done by next month."</p><p>"That's so exciting," she chirped. "I can't wait to hear it!" Although that reminded her: she still hadn't actually listened to his EP. At least, not all the way through. Whoops. She had meant to! Really. She just kept accidentally forgetting and putting on fun music instead.</p><p>He smiled. "You can be one of the first. But hey, enough about me. What's been going on with you?"</p><p>"Oh, you know." <em>Unsuccessfully stalking directors, humiliating myself at clubs.</em> <em>The yoozh!</em> "Auditions, friends, meetings, yoga classes. You know how it—"</p><p>"MINA?" Her nemesis, the barista, screamed.</p><p>It took all of Mimi's effort to face the barista with a winning smile as opposed to the withering glare that was threatening to darken her entire face but she managed it.</p><p>"Thanks," she muttered, solely for Yamato's benefit. She blew into the lid hole and skeptically took a sip, not trusting that the order would be right but to her surprise, the java jerk had managed it after all. Tiny miracles.</p><p>"Good coffee," she commented as she stepped back over to Yamato, feeling compelled to say something positive so that he would think she was all gracious and crap instead of suspecting all the mean thoughts that were truly going through her head.</p><p>"It's not bad. But," he lowered his voice, leaning in conspiratorially, "The dude behind the counter is a complete knob."</p><p>Mimi cracked up, relieved that Yamato also thought the barista was a total bonehead and Yamato laughed too. The barista was completely oblivious, now consumed with watching what sounded like Youtube unboxing videos on his cellphone.</p><p>Once they'd had a good chuckle, Yamato glanced at the leather watch on his wrist. "I guess it's about that time. Should we head over?"</p><p>She nodded. "Lead the way."</p><p>The sun beat down on Mimi's shoulders as they exited the cafe, the weather unseasonably warm for March. She took in the rays, imagining herself frolicking around the studio all spring in her favorite sundresses, eating lunch by the garden. Visions of floral prints swirling in her brain, she stepped off the curb, not noticing the golf car zipping around the corner. But before she could even react, Yamato was tugging her arm back and pulling her to safety.</p><p>"HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!" Yamato yelled after the still driving cart. "You could hurt someone with that thing!"</p><p>In response from the driver, a meager wave of apology.</p><p>Mimi turned to Yamato, eyes wide with gratitude. "Yamato! You saved me. I could have lost a body part!"</p><p>"He was only going a few miles an hour, so you <em>probably</em> would have lived to tell the tale, but I'm glad we didn't have to find out. You okay?" He gave her a quick once over, eyes scanning her for any bumps or bruises.</p><p>"Oh, I'm fine!" she assured him, waving a hand. "Thanks to you and your bravery in the face of miniature motorized vehicles."</p><p>"Got to look out for those golf carts. I hear they're the leading cause of death around these parts." He grinned at her.</p><p>God, he was cute.</p><p><em>No, cute doesn't do him justice</em>, she decided, eyes raking over his hair, his cheekbones, his gunmetal blue eyes that looked cool and mysterious underneath those long lashes. <em>He's gorgeous</em>. She already knew that his face would soon be plastered over magazines, the internet and gossip rags ravenous for him. He was doomed to be crazy, stupid famous because of that perfect face.</p><p>"I guess if I have to die somewhere, on this lot wouldn't be so bad," Mimi mused.</p><p>Yamato looked around, nodding. "This place is...insane. I've only ever been on music video sets before where there's, what? Fifteen people, twenty tops. Nothing like this. Not even close."</p><p>"It's pretty spectacular," she agreed.</p><p>"Yeah. Spectacular. And surreal."</p><p>"Surreal?"</p><p>"Yeah. I mean, a year ago, I was working as a line cook at Kotaro, playing the occasional gig. You know? And today… well, today I came at work at Saito Studios."</p><p>He looked out over the studio and she followed his gaze, drinking in the scenery. There was a courthouse set, a graffiti alley set, a Parisian looking outdoor café set and rows of storefronts made to look like generic, photogenic streets that any production could throw some actors in front of and point a camera at. It went on and on and on, further than her eye could see. It was fake reality, manufactured glamour, but it was undeniably thrilling. To see behind the curtain. It felt like being let into a secret.</p><p>"I get it," Mimi nodded. "I mean, not the gigs or the line cook thing — although, how <em>is</em> Kotaro? I hear the menchi-katsu is to <em>die</em> for — but anyway— I totally know what you mean. It felt really special. Driving through that gate."</p><p>"Yeah," Yamato agreed solemnly. "I feel lucky. Incredibly, insanely, out of this world lucky."</p><p>She glanced sideways at him. Yamato <em>was </em>lucky. Most people didn't achieve as much success in their lifetime as he had in one year; a record deal, an EP that went number one on the charts, being cast as the leading man in a major motion picture. But not everyone recognized that luck. Some people took their meteoric rise to success as their God given right. Yamato's humility spoke volumes about him. But would the ultra stardom that was surely coming for Yamato change that about him? Fame could be a hell of a drug. (Also, drugs could be a hell of a drug, though hopefully he wasn't <em>that</em> type of rock star).</p><p>Finally, the two made it to the production office where a cheerful secretary greeted them, springing up from her office chair so quickly it rolled out behind her.</p><p>"Miss Tachikawa and Mr. Ishida, what a pleasure! Come, right this way! Mr. Asaki is expecting you. Can I get you any water or coffee?"</p><p>They declined, thanking her, and followed her to the rehearsal room, which was just a conference room with the tables and chairs pushed back to the side. Standing in the center of the room, looking extremely fashionable in a paisley dress shirt and thick square glasses, was Hotaru Asaki, the director of <em>The Last Tour</em>.</p><p>The bespectacled man clasped his hands together. "Yamato, Mimi! My beautiful stars. Welcome!" He came up to them, shaking each of their hands vigorously. "I see you two have already been acquainted. Fabulous. Just wonderful. Water? Coffee?"</p><p>They both shook their heads again  and Hotaru clapped, delighted. "Low maintenance actors, I love it! I'll tell you, <em>that</em> doesn't happen often on this lot."</p><p>Mimi, who had never once been deemed low maintenance in her entire life, decided she liked this guy.</p><p>After a few more minutes of chit chat, Hotaru had them pull out their scripts. They began to run through the scenes they'd be filming next week, Hotaru stopping them frequently to offer both praise and suggestions. The film<em>, </em>which Hotaru had also written,was a romantic drama about a traveling musician Toru (Yamato) who returns to his hometown and falls in love with a former classmate, the lively Rina (Mimi). It was a funny, occasionally heart wrenching script and Mimi thoroughly enjoyed getting to dissolve into the character, to stop thinking Mimi's thoughts and start thinking Rina's. And she was deeply enjoying getting to act with Yamato and watch him breathe life into the words on the page. He may have been inexperienced but he had great instincts. The way he spoke, the way he delivered lines in his low, smooth voice. There was something utterly irresistible about him. The casting directors had known what they were doing.</p><p>After a few hours, Hotaru dismissed them from rehearsal.</p><p>"That was magic! Fire. Dynamite. If you two aren't the next big thing in Tokyo, I'll eat my manuscript. Now go get some rest and I'll see you both bright and early Monday morning."</p><p>They collected their stuff, relieved to be done rehearsals for the day but energized by it all. Mimi was practically vibrating as her and Yamato walked back to their cars.</p><p>"That was so much fun! Don't you think? And I really liked Hotaru. I barely remember him from the screen tests so I had no idea what to expect. Like, I've heard he's a nice guy but sometimes you hear that and then when you meet them it's like, ugh, are you actually nice or am I gonna wake up one morning with you wielding an axe over my bed? But he gave me total Gay Dad energy. Which is a compliment. He's gay, right? Not that it matters, of course, actually I think I might prefer it."</p><p>Yamato laughed, apparently amused by her candor. "It was a lot of fun," he agreed. "Hotaru does seem great. And I have to say, it's very refreshing to read my lines and have the real Rina actually answer, as opposed to silence." He grimaced. "Or my brother…"</p><p>Mimi giggled at the mental image, Yamato and some mini version of Yamato reading all the sappy lines out to each other. "You'll have to bring your brother by set, he can be my understudy," she teased, even though there were no understudies in film. She sighed out, content and happy. "This is going to be such a fun shoot. You were so good!"</p><p>Yamato shook his head. "Me? No way. I was just trying to keep up with you. You're the real actress here. I'm just trying to make sure I don't embarrass you."</p><p>Mimi pressed a hand against her heart, deeply flattered by this assessment of <em>real actress</em>. It was extremely important to her that Yamato think of her as the emerging starlet from <em>Hana Goes Home</em> and not the scream queen who had spent most of her career being slaughtered in a bikini.</p><p>They were approaching their vehicles but Mimi wasn't quite ready to say goodbye yet. It was hard to pull the plug after vibing with someone on that frequency for hours. "So, any weekend plans?" she asked brightly.</p><p>"Yeah, a few. I have a gig – sort of – tomorrow."</p><p>"Oh, like you're playing a show?" she perked up, imagining herself backstage in a cool leather skirt and fashionably cropped band tee. "I'd love to see you play."</p><p>"Well, less of a show, more of a – fundraiser?" He scratched his neck. "It's a benefit thing. For the Children's Hospital."</p><p><em>Goddamnit.</em> "Even better!" she cooed. "I absolutely love–" <em>Dying kids? Charity? </em>What was the word? "Philanthropy!"</p><p>"Yeah, my friend Jyou's doing his residency there and asked if I'd play a set," he said with a shrug. Yamato was doing that nonchalance thing again, like discussing his own altruism made him feel itchy. Another thing that set him apart from typical industry yuppies; rich and famous people <em>loved</em> to discuss what good people they were. The more terrible, the more they liked to talk about their charitable work.</p><p>"Tickets are still available, I think, if you did want to go. Although, please, don't feel compelled. I do a lot of regular shows, too."</p><p>Tachikawa Mimi, Lover of Philanthropy (as of twenty seconds ago) beamed at him. "No way! I'll be there. I'll even bring some friends!" <em>Note to self, tell Sora &amp; Miyako to cancel their weekend plans.</em> Oh, Sora! A quick glance down at her phone told her that it was nearly 1:00pm.</p><p>"Oh, shoot! I have to go. I forgot, I have a costume fitting with Sora back at the office."</p><p>"Ah, nice. I did my fitting the other day. Lots of black jeans." Yamato looked down at his pants; black skinnies, slightly ripped in one knee. "Apparently Toru and I are going to have very similar wardrobes. Anyway — tell Sora I say hi, yeah?"</p><p>"Of course," she said, stepping back toward the office. "Bye, Yamato."</p><p>Yamato slid his sunglasses on, waved one hand casually to say goodbye. The way the sun was hitting him in this exact moment, with the shades and the leather and the crooked smile, he oozed James Dean elegance and Mimi couldn't help but watch as he walked away.</p><p>
  <em>So. Damn. Cute.</em>
</p><p>Oops. She needed not to be thinking these thoughts about Yamato. He was going to be her coworker for the next few months, after all, and mixing business with pleasure was always a risk.</p><p>Although – she <em>was</em> going to have to kiss said coworker on screen – <em>a lot </em>– so maybe it was good to have those thoughts? Just a little? The method and all that.</p><p>Yeah. Sure. She'd go with that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Okay, girls! What do you think? This one? Is it <em>philanthropic</em> fashion forward?"</p><p>Mimi tugged at the zipper on her dress as she stepped over a pair of 4-inch leopard print heels and into her living room. The room was midcentury modern meets millennial, filled with succulents in trendy pots, framed polaroid photos that featured her partying with friends, and a pink velvet couch which had been entirely too expensive but anchored the aesthetic of the room. On it sat Sora and Miyako who were sipping wine out of stemless glasses (white; red wine was strictly forbidden on said couch) and acting as adjudicators of the impromptu fashion show that was taking place. Mimi twirled slowly to show off the dress, a black number that criss-crossed down her back and had a slit up the thigh.</p><p>"You look gorgeous!" Miyako clasped her hands together in delight. She was boho professional (if such a thing existed) in a sage green maxi-dress with her lavender hair twisted up into a loose bun.</p><p>Mimi frowned. "You said that the last three dresses."</p><p>"Because you looked gorgeous in all three of them!" Miyako insisted.</p><p>She sighed. Usually she exalted in such praise but it wasn't helpful when she was trying to narrow down her options. She turned to her redheaded friend and trusted stylist. "Sora, what do you think?"</p><p>Sora, who was looking very chic in pinstripe trousers and a golden yellow camisole, focused her maroon eyes on Mimi. "You do look gorgeous, Mi," she agreed then twisted her mouth. "But it's maybe a little too—sexy? For the event?"</p><p>It was Saturday night and Mimi, Sora and Miyako were preparing to head out to the Children's Hospital fundraiser. Mimi had guilted Sora and Miyako into it the same way she'd felt compelled: how did one say no to a benefit? For sad, dying children? Obviously only a monster could refuse. However, while getting dressed earlier she had quickly realized the rows of sparkly mini dresses hanging in her closet weren't going to cut it and sent out an urgent SOS text to the girls. What the hell did one wear to an event for the Children's Hospital?! Would any of the children actually be there? What if she accidentally wore something with too much cleavage and caused some cancer stricken boy to prematurely croak? There was a lot to consider.</p><p>"This is terrible! I have nothing to wear!" Mimi moaned, draping herself over her Birds of Paradise patterned arm chair. "I'm not going. Just tell Yamato that I…. I don't know. Make something up. Something noble."</p><p>Sora exchanged looks with Miyako and then stood up. "Want me to take a look through your closet?"</p><p>"If you want," Mimi sighed again. "But I think it's hopeless."</p><p>Sora retreated into Mimi's room, on an official fashion mission, while Mimi slumped further into her chair feeling sorry for herself and her terrible, stupid wardrobe. She could hear Miyako rapidly typing into her cellphone, no doubt answering work emails. Minutes later, Sora returned with a white strapless jumpsuit in hand.</p><p>She handed the hanger to Mimi. "Try this on."</p><p>"This one?" she asked dubiously, receiving the hanger from Sora. She unfurled herself and stood up so she could hold it up against herself. She'd bought the outfit last year to wear to her talent agency's garden party.</p><p>"Don't you think the white will be too—summery? Or doctor-y?"</p><p>Sora shook her head. "No. I think it'll look perfect. And as your unofficial official stylist, I think you should at least try it."</p><p>Miyako looked up from her phone. "Not to incite panic or anything, but the taxi is due to arrive in about fifteen minutes."</p><p>"Oh, fine. Sora, will you unzip me?" She raised her arms up, letting Sora move in to unzip the dress. She wriggled out of it and stepped into the jumpsuit with Sora assisting her, a familiar song and dance.</p><p>Once Sora finished zipping her up and smoothing out some wrinkles, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. "Mi, you look beautiful. Go take a look."</p><p>Cautiously, Mimi retreated to her room. Half the contents of her closet were currently strewn about her room but she ignored this and focused on the mirror. Huh. Not bad. She would need to throw on a strapless bra so that her nipples didn't poke someone in the eye, but otherwise… Sora had been right. She looked both classy and sexy. Plus, the jumpsuit made her ass look good.</p><p>Mimi stepped back out of the room, considerably cheered. "It's perfect!"</p><p>"Told you," Sora said with a smile.</p><p>Miyako glanced up and her jaw dropped literally dropped, which was extremely gratifying. Mimi was ready to revel in Miyako's flattery again. "Wow, Mimi! You look like a goddess. Yamato won't know what hit him."</p><p>Mimi laughed. "I don't know. He wears a lot of black. The white might be too much for him."</p><p>"Wait, are you interested in Yamato?" Sora raised her eyebrows. "Did I miss something?"</p><p>Miyako grinned. "Wouldn't they just make the most <em>beautiful</em> couple? Plus, the press would just love it."</p><p>Sora wrinkled her nose. "Who cares about the press?"</p><p>Miyako raised her hand. "Uh, hello, I do. That's my bread and butter."</p><p>Mimi rolled her eyes at the two of them. "Oh come on, both of you. I barely know Yamato! Not to mention he's my co-star." She paused and then her lips curved into a sly smile. "But my god, he is <em>so</em> cute."</p><p>All the women laughed but Mimi thought she detected a note of caution in Sora's. But she got it. If her and Yamato indulged in a little on set romance and it failed, Sora's work environment could be compromised by the fall out. But that was jumping the gun. Tonight wasn't a date with Yamato. She was bringing two friends, after all. No, it was just a casual evening of saving sickly kids while availing themselves to an open bar.</p><p>The three women had just enough time to drain their wine glasses and retouch their make up before their taxi arrived. Mimi's apartment was quite central to downtown which made for a brief ride to their venue. Tonight's event was at Wisteria, a former jazz club turned penthouse bar that boasted the sparkling Tokyo skyline through the floor to ceiling windows. Mimi had lived in Tokyo for most of her life but that view never failed to dazzle her. The room itself was populated with plenty of entertainment industry folk, people who preferred their philanthropy to involve cocktail attire and liquor. There were a lot of exec looking types and a few B-List actors and musicians she recognized from her own rolodex of pop culture. Aging stars of formerly beloved teen shows and musicians she hadn't thought of in years. Did her own presence here mean she was B-List? She didn't want to think about it.</p><p>A man with a large camera, presumably the event photographer, approached them with a smile.</p><p>"Would you ladies like your photograph taken?"</p><p>Sora put her hand up, as if to say 'that's okay'. "No thank you."</p><p>Miyako elbowed Sora, who let out a whine. "Actually, we do!" To Sora, a lecture under her breath: "You <em>always</em> get photographed at fundraiser events."</p><p>Sora only had a moment to glare at Miyako before they had to pose for the camera. Mimi quickly adjusted the top of her outfit and then turned toward the lens with her good side, giving the camera a pretty smile. The flash went off with a burst of white hot light.</p><p>"Does one always get blinded at fundraiser events too?" Sora asked Miyako once the photographer left, rubbing her eyes.</p><p>Miyako shrugged. "If it means good press, yes."</p><p>Mimi eyed a waiter circulating nearby carrying a tray of wine flutes. She waved at him and he came over. "Champagne?"</p><p>"Please," Mimi enthusiastically accepted, taking a flute from the tray as Miyako and Sora did the same. "Cheers, girls."</p><p>"What should we cheers to?" asked Sora, a hint of skepticism in her tone that this was the proper event to be cheers-ing at.</p><p>Miyako and Mimi chimed in unison, "The children."</p><p>Mimi laughed and took a generous sip from her flute, the bubbles crisp on her tongue. They were mid-range bubbles, more like sparkling wine than champagne but she did not discriminate against free bubbly. As she sipped at the wine, she glanced around to see if she could find Yamato but to her abject horror, she spotted someone else instead.</p><p>"You guys!" she whisper yelled urgently, "He's here!"</p><p>"Who?" asked Sora, turning her head in the direction of Mimi's to try and gather who was talking about.</p><p>"Yamato?" Miyako guessed eagerly.</p><p>"No! That jerk! From the club!"</p><p>"Which one?"</p><p>How depressing to think that clubs were so full of jerks that she would have to specify. "The one who spilled his drink on me! He's over there, standing with some girl. A different girl than he was with at the club! Unbelievable."</p><p>His hair was just as unruly as it'd been the other night, but he was cleaned up in a perfectly tailored navy blue suit, drink in hand. He was standing with a very pretty brunette who was clad in a simple flaxen yellow midi dress and quite frankly, looked too young for him. The two were chatting animatedly and she seemed to keep laughing at observations he was making. Ugh! Did he have a brunette for every day of the week or something? How many girls was this cro-magnum stringing along, honestly?</p><p>Sora strained her neck to follow Mimi's eyeline. "Wait, are you talking about the man in the navy suit? Standing by the bar?"</p><p>"Yes! My nemesis," said Mimi, despite that yesterday she had declared that studio barista as her nemesis. Whatever, it was the 21st century. A gal could have multiple nemeses if she wanted.</p><p>Sora raised her eyebrows. "Mimi. That's Yagami Taichi."</p><p>Mimi blinked, unfazed. "Is that name supposed to mean something to me?"</p><p>"Yagami Taichi," Miyako mused and then snapped her fingers. "Oh! I know. Football player, right?"</p><p>"Huge," Sora affirmed. "He started playing for FC Tokyo right out of high school. He was this total natural talent, youngest guy on the team. He also played in the Olympics and brought Japan a gold medal. But he's been playing for Paris for the last few years. I wonder why he's here."</p><p>"Sent specially to Tokyo to torture me, probably," Mimi muttered, taking in Taichi in the slightly brighter conditions of this party. Annoyingly, he was just as hot in better lighting. More so, even. Now she could really make out the appealing lines of his jaw, his strong chin, the way his broad shoulders filled out his suit jacket. "I can't believe he has <em>another</em> girl with him…"</p><p>Sora regarded her curiously. "Does that bother you?"</p><p>"No," Mimi defended, too quickly. "I don't care about him. He's a barbarian. I just. You know, wonder how he pulls so many girls."</p><p>"Probably because he's a tall, built football player?" Miyako suggested.</p><p>"And a very talented one," Sora added.</p><p>"What, are you two in his fan club or something?" Mimi grumbled. "I can't believe he's here! He better not try to talk to me."</p><p>"Who better not talk to you?"</p><p>The question was from a male voice. She turned, grateful for the distraction. A smile burst on her face when she saw who it was. "Yamato!"</p><p>Beside her was Yamato, smiling, and looking very dapper in straight legged black dress pants and a black button up. No holes in the knees here. Standing beside him sporting a wide, friendly smile and a green blazer with chino pants was another blond male who looked to be a younger, frecklier version of Yamato.</p><p>"If you meant me, this is really awkward," Yamato joked, deadpan.</p><p>"Definitely not you. You, I like talking to. Hi!" She leaned in to give Yamato a quick squeeze.</p><p>He took a step back and took in her appearance with an appreciative look. "Wow, Mimi. You look incredible. Love the jumpsuit."</p><p>Just like that, all the toiling and styling and panicking had been worth it. She gave a dismissive flutter of her hand. "Oh, yeah. Just kind of something I threw on." Sora coughed. Mimi ignored her and focused her attention to the other man beside Yamato. "Oh my gosh, is this Mini-Yama in the flesh?"</p><p>"Known in some circles as Takeru," he said with a warm, wry grin. "Yamato's younger brother. Hi everyone."</p><p>Yamato jumped in to make introductions. "Takeru, this is Mimi, my co-worker. She plays Rina in the movie. And this is Sora, best costumer designer in the biz." He smiled at Sora. "Sora, nice to see you outside work. You look great. You all do."</p><p>"Oh, thank you." Was it Mimi's imagination or did Sora flush the slightest bit pink?</p><p>Yamato turned to Miyako, smiling with charm. "And I don't believe we've met."</p><p>"Inoue Miyako, Mimi's publicist," she introduced herself, extending a hand to give Yamato a firm, business-like handshake. But then she dropped the ultra professional veneer for a moment to confess: "And huge fan. I loved your EP."</p><p>His smile deepened. "Hey, thanks. That means a lot, honestly."</p><p>Mimi was sipping her wine and glancing around the room, which had been steadily filling up since they'd arrived. "Wow, what a great turnout. I'm so excited to see you play! Oh and uh," she added quickly, "so great for the children."</p><p>"Yeah, it'll be fun." He looked around too, at the narrow stage in the center of the room where there was currently a man on a keyboard playing his mediocre music. "Although manage your expectations. The acoustics in here are kind of shit."</p><p>"Mhmm, yeah, the 'acoustics," Takeru teased.</p><p>Yamato thwacked his brother on the back of the head. "Why'd I bring you again?"</p><p>"Because I like free beer and Jyou told you to?"</p><p>Mimi smiled. The brotherly camaraderie was very endearing. Mimi had very much enjoyed growing up an only child and being endlessly and singularly doted upon by her parents, but every so often she had wished there'd been a younger sibling she could have played tea party with or at least bitch about her parents with.</p><p>Sora tilted her head toward Yamato. "When do you go on?"</p><p>He looked down at his watch. "Pretty soon, actually. I should go start setting up. See you guys after?"</p><p>Mimi nodded. "Yeah, come find us!"</p><p>Takeru waved at his brother's retreating figure. "Break a leg!" he called out.</p><p>"I think that's only for theater actors," Miyako corrected.</p><p>Takeru grinned. Him and Yamato both had very charming smiles although Yamato's was very cool and casual while Takeru's was loose, silly. "Who can keep track?"</p><p>Mimi smiled. Takeru had a lovely, sunshiney energy. She decided she liked him. "It's so nice that you came to support your brother! Do you work in music too?"</p><p>He shook his head. "Nah, I can't hold a note to save my life. I'm a, uh, writer."</p><p>"That's so great. Anything we know?" asked Sora.</p><p>He scratched his chin. "Umm… the twitter account for Pizza Hut? I write for a few companies as their like, funny woke Twitter voice. I also have a podcast called 'Takaishi Talk'." Takeru winced. "I'm a typical millennial douche, aren't I?"</p><p>Mimi laughed. She didn't spend a lot of time on Twitter – too many words, not enough pictures – but she'd seen screenshots and memes of corporate twitter accounts being sassy. It was fun to think Takeru was behind some of those. "No way! Or at least, if you are, so am I. What's your podcast about?"</p><p>"Popular culture, politics, the new show that's on Netflix. Whatever I want to talk about that week, really. Sometimes I interview guests, comedians and actors or whoever. Hey, you should come on it someti—wait, Hikari?!"</p><p>Someone apparently more interesting behind Mimi had suddenly snapped up Takeru's attention. Who the hell was Hikari? Mimi turned to see. Oh. It was the young brunette who had been hanging close to her nemesis and…. the nemesis himself. Yagami Taichi. Of course. Because why wouldn't it be?</p><p>Mimi glowered at him.</p><p>"Takeru!" Hikari greeted enthusiastically. She and Takeru stepped in to give each other a brief but fierce hug. "I didn't know you'd be here!"</p><p>Meanwhile, Taichi was smirking in Mimi's direction. She took a protective step toward Miyako and Sora.</p><p>"Hikari and I were in the same class in University," Takeru explained to the three other women. "Wow, it's great to see you again!"</p><p>"You too," Hikari said happily. She gestured toward Taichi. "Have you met my brother, Taichi?"</p><p><em>Brother</em>. Not boyfriend or date. Mimi felt oddly satisfied by this revelation.</p><p>"I don't think so," Takeru said, and reached a hand out to shake Taichi's. "Nice to meet you."</p><p>Taichi shook Takeru's hand without even looking at the man. Instead, he was still looking right at Mimi, smirk even deeper than before. "You."</p><p>Mimi glowered harder. "You."</p><p>Takeru looked at both of them, puzzled. "Do you two know each other?"</p><p>"Oh, we met but she looked pretty wasted. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't remember." He casually extended one hand out to Mimi. "Yagami Taichi."</p><p>Mimi was so angry she couldn't even speak, let alone shake his hand. Miyako and Sora shook his hand instead.</p><p>"I'm Sora," Sora introduced herself to Taichi. "It's nice to meet you. I have to say. That winning goal you scored in the last summer Olympics? I don't think I've ever felt anything like it."</p><p>Taichi grinned. "Me either. That was one of the greatest days of my life."</p><p>"Are you just here visiting from Paris?"</p><p>"Actually, I traded back to FC Japan as of last week. So I'm back full time."</p><p>"Wow! Welcome back."</p><p>Mimi watched this exchange, cross. Not only was her nemesis here, but her best friend was getting along with him! She hated when Sora did her sports talk thing. Boys loved it but Mimi, who was not able to contribute, did not.</p><p>Miyako, reading Mimi's annoyance correctly, intervened. "So what brings you guys here?" she asked Taichi and Hikari.</p><p>Hikari, who had been having a side conversation with Takeru, looked up with a smile. "Well, Taichi was invited. I tagged along because I have a special spot in my heart for this hospital. I spent a lot of time here as a kid and they were wonderful to me. So it feels nice to give back."</p><p>"Plus, the booze." Taichi's gaze wandered back to Mimi. "You know, I recognize you."</p><p>She fixed him her haughtiest expression. "Yeah, you were the jerk who spilled the drink down my shirt the other night."</p><p>He waved his hand. "Now, now. You knocked that drink on yourself. But I don't mean that. I recognize you from movies. Tachikawa Mimi, right?"</p><p>"That's me."</p><p>"I have to say, Mimi. No one quite dies on screen like you do. That scene in <em>Babysitters Club Dread</em> where you get gutted in that treehouse— the height of cinema."</p><p>"Get bent," Mimi suggested.</p><p>"Takeru, should we get a drink? Hikari said quickly.</p><p>"Absolutely," he agreed, just as quickly and the two fled.</p><p>Sora took a step back. "Uh yeah, us too, Miyako?"</p><p>"Don't –" Mimi hissed.</p><p>"See you!" Miyako and Sora hightailed toward the bar. Traitors! She would give them both an earful later.</p><p>Taichi looked amused. at the entire situation "You know, I'm just trying to pay you a compliment. I'm a big fan." He took a drink from his glass, a dark amber liquid that looked like pure whiskey or scotch. It was a very sophisticated, masculine choice. She wanted to dump it over his suit.</p><p>Her eyes were still narrowed. "Can't say the same."</p><p>"Ah, so you're not a fan of football?"</p><p>She rolled her eyes. "Bunch of dudes all screaming at each other trying to kick a ball? Yeah right."</p><p>He blinked. "Have you ever… watched a football game?"</p><p>"Of course not! I have better things to do."</p><p>His mouth twitched. "Like what? Terrorize men at bars?"</p><p>"Okay, listen pal—!" she started when she noticed that the piano had stopped and there was a changeover of musicians happening. Yamato had just come onto stage and was setting up his guitar. She looked away from Taichi, trying to catch Yamato's eye.</p><p>"Hi everyone," Yamato spoke lowly into the microphone, looking out into the crowd. "I'm Yamato Ishida. Thanks so much for being here tonight. I'm going to be playing a few of my songs. While I do that, feel free to check out the silent auction. All proceeds will be going entirely to the Children's Hospital."</p><p>Mimi cheered loudly and Yamato looked over in her direction, a grin rising over his serious expression when he saw the source. He waved at her. People turned their heads toward Mimi to see the lucky girl that Yamato Ishida was waving at as she shyly waved back.</p><p>Beside her, Taichi scoffed. "Is that guy your boyfriend or something?"</p><p>Mimi smiled sweetly. "Or something."</p><p>"Didn't take you for pretty boys."</p><p>"One, he's not a pretty boy and," Mimi turned back to Taichi as Yamato began his set, his smooth baritone gliding over his guitar chords. Was this a hint of jealousy she detected? How <em>very</em> interesting. "Two, what <em>do </em>you take me for?"</p><p>Taichi stepped forward, just an inch, his lips curving into an arrogant smile that was more attractive than it had any right to be. "Men," he said simply.</p><p>Mimi forced herself to laugh to mask the shiver that had just gone up her spine. "What, like you?" She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. You hardly qualify as a man. More like a caveman. Or maybe an ape. I'm not sure how far along on the evolutionary chain you are. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to watch this."</p><p>She sashayed away from Taichi, thrilled to have gotten the last word this time and secretly hoping he was checking out her because her butt looked good right now and he deserved to be punished by looking at what he couldn't have. She spotted Sora and Miyako at a table and went over to join them.</p><p>Miyako and Sora both had raised eyebrows as she lowered herself into her seat. "So?"</p><p>"Yagami Taichi might be an all important athlete, but he's a still a dick."</p><p>Yamato played for nearly forty-five minutes, during which time Mimi downed several glasses of the champagne, earned a new high score on Candy Crush and stole the occasional glance over at Taichi who mostly chatting to some other dudes sitting at his table instead of at the stage. How rude to not be paying attention!</p><p>Suddenly there was applause breaking out and Mimi quickly put down her phone and looked up at Yamato who had apparently just finished his set. She stood up and clapped her hands together extra loudly to compensate.</p><p>"He's good," Miyako sighed.</p><p>"He's <em>really</em>, really good," Sora breathed.</p><p>Yamato stepped off the makeshift stage to make room for the stagehands to change over for the next musician and Mimi decided she should take the opportunity to say hi, so she gulped down her bubbly and strut past dozens of tables over to the front of the room. She clapped again when she reached him.</p><p>"Yamato! Wow. What a performance!"</p><p>He smiled when he saw her and ran a hand through his hair, pleased. There were a few beads of perspiration on his forehead from the spotlight but she wouldn't hold that against him. "Oh, thank you. It was fun. And thank you, too, for coming."</p><p>"Of course. Like I would miss this!" Mimi beamed. "You were wonderful."</p><p>Across the room, from the very, very corner of her eye, Mimi could make out Taichi. But this time, he was no longer chatting it up with his bros or Hikari. He was looking right at her &amp; Yamato.</p><p>Not that she cared, of course.</p><p>But for good measure, she drew herself up to her full height to plant a big, glossy smooch right on Yamato's cheek.</p><p>Yamato flushed with pleasure. The flash bulbs of a several cameras went off around them.</p><p>Mimi didn't look back at Taichi as she made her way back to the table. She didn't have to. She knew he would be looking.</p>
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